


A More Ancient Form Of Proof

by amyfortuna



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Half-Sibling Incest, Homoeroticism, Homosocial Nipple Sucking, Kneeling, Loyalty, M/M, Public Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:08:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4038070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feanor requires more than words from Fingolfin to prove his loyalty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A More Ancient Form Of Proof

**Author's Note:**

> From a kink meme challenge on FFA regarding homosocial (and homoerotic) nipple sucking as practiced by ancient Celts as a ritual act of loyalty.

"You will lead and I will follow," Fingolfin says, extending his hand. "And may no new grief divide us." 

Feanor looks down at the outstretched hand. "You will follow?" he asks calmly. "I require a more ancient form of proof of that." 

Fingolfin knows what he means instantly, and flushes hot with the knowledge of it. This rite of loyalty has not been practiced since the Eldar came to Valinor. For Feanor to ask for such a thing is an exercise in humiliation, not a sincere wish for a show of loyalty. 

But Fingolfin is willing to do anything for peace. He goes to his knees in front of Feanor, pushing his open tunic to the side, exposing his right nipple. He gives one last pleading glance upward at his implacable brother, then fastens his mouth to Feanor's nipple and sucks in, hard. 

There is total silence all around them; they might as well be alone rather than surrounded by hundreds of their people. Feanor gives a soft sigh, and his hand comes up to curl into Fingolfin's hair, push him harder against Feanor's chest. Fingolfin is half-tempted to use his teeth, just a little, and turn this from humiliation to something far more dangerous, but resists, continuing to suckle for as long as Feanor holds him there. 

He is breathless and panting by the time Feanor lets him go, lips reddened, a blush on his face, hard under his robes. He sits back on his heels, looking up at Feanor. _Will that be enough?_ He pleads silently. _Please do not humiliate me further_. 

Feanor seems almost to hear him, for he leans down, his face softening, extending a hand. Fingolfin takes it, and Feanor pulls him to his feet. 

"I hear thee," Feanor says quietly. "So be it." Fingolfin's eyes are drawn back to Feanor's open tunic and the hard wet nub of the nipple there, and for a moment he wants nothing more than to be back on his knees.


End file.
